"Who are the Tyrrel-Rawdons? I have no acquaintance with them."
"They are the descendants of that Tyrrel-Rawdon who a century ago married a handsome girl who was only an innkeeper's daughter. He was of course disowned and disinherited, and his children sank to the lowest social grade. Then when power-loom weaving was introduced they went to the mills, and one of them was clever and saved money and built a little mill of his own, and his son built a much larger one, and made a great deal of money, and became Mayor of Leeds. The next generation saw the Tyrrel-Rawdons the largest loom-lords in Yorkshire. One of the youngest generation was my opponent in the last election and beat me--a Radical fellow beats the Conservative candidate always where weavers and spinners hold the vote but I thought it my duty to uphold the Mostyn banner. You know the Mostyns have always been Tories and Conservatives."
"Excuse me, but I am afraid I am ignorant concerning Mostyn politics. I take little interest in the English parties."
"Naturally. Well, I hope you will take an interest in my affairs and give me your advice about the sale of Rawdon Court."
"I think my advice would be useless. In the first place, I never saw the Court. My father had an old picture of it, which has somehow disappeared since his death, but I cannot say that even this picture interested me at all. You know I am an American, born on the soil, and very proud of it. Then, as you are acquainted with all the ins and outs of the difficulties and embarrassments, and I know nothing at all about them, you would hardly be foolish enough to take my opinion against your own. I suppose the Squire is in favor of your buying the Court?"
"I never named the subject to him. I thought perhaps he might have written to you on the matter. You are the last male of the house in that line."
"He has never written to me about the Court. Then, I am not the last male. From what you say, I think the Tyrrel-Rawdons could easily supply an heir to Rawdon."
"That is the thing to be avoided. It would be a great offense to the county families."
"Why should they be considered? A Rawdon is always a Rawdon."
"But a cotton spinner, sir! A mere mill-owner!"
"Well, I do not feel with you and the other county people in that respect. I think a cotton spinner, giving bread to a thousand families, is a vastly more respectable and important man than a fox-hunting, idle landlord. A mill-owning Rawdon might do a deal of good in the sleepy old village of Monk-Rawdon."